


tu tienimi

by Sagikkun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Boyfriend material, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, High School, Homophobia, Incest, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Smut, Step-Brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-11-09 08:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagikkun/pseuds/Sagikkun
Summary: call him friend, but keep him closer.(on going.. really slow updates, sorry)





	1. (a)

**Author's Note:**

> hi everybody!  
this is the first time I write a chanbaek fiction, it's safe to say it's the first time I write a fiction, actually, since I've never finished all the drafts I started in the past... anyway, english is not my first language so, please, be understanding if you find any grammar mistakes, or syntactic inconsistencies (I'm pretty sure there are a lot lol).  
I want to say thanks to my friend G, who's beta-read this for me, supports me and endures me when I get nuts.  
enjoy and remember that constructive criticism is always appreciated!

The ring of the bell makes him wake up with a jump, resulting in his knees to bang against the hard surface of the table he’s sitting at. Luckily, everybody is too focused on getting ready to go home to notice his numerous and not exactly gracious yawns. Chanyeol collects the last things he's left in front of him (not many, since his farsightedness had him keeping his stuff in his backpack, in anticipation of his full-afternoon nap) and stands up, waiting for his classmates to flow out of the room and give him some space to move his limbs. They're all so eager to get out of school that they mass at the doorway, like a swarm of wasps, and the boy wonders with irony how delirious it would get if a fire started or something. 

Once he manages to get in the hallway, he throws his jacket over his right shoulder and starts walking in the same direction of the hordes of students, radar anti elbows-in-the-ribs. From his abnormal height he can see above all the dark heads, his well-built figure too, one of someone who dedicates a lot of time to sport, contributes to make him look like he got much more steroids that he needed. A group of girls start to giggle as he walks past them and he slightly tilts his head to wink in their direction, not that he puts his heart in the action. He can feel them looking at him and a lot of whispers come to his ears, Chanyeol must summon his manly pride to stop his lips from quirking upwards, even though he appreciates the attention very much. Well, being the captain of the basketball team has its perks.

He's very close to the main entrance when suddenly he bumps against the shoulder of someone who's going in the opposite direction, making him buckle for half a second. To be exact, it’s that someone who bumped against him, not the other way. Must be some of those football team fuckers judging by the hardness of the muscle that hit him and he's ready to turn around and unsheathe his refined insults, but when he looks behind himself, he sees nothing but the crowd patterned hallway, faces he can’t even distinguish from each other. Only then, he realises, tilting his head down a few degrees, that there's a short silver-haired boy standing in front of him, who looks too tiny to have all the strength to make Chanyeol lose his balance. This...guy, well, he looks far from manly, no, not that he looks like a girl...oh fuck. It’s so confusing.

The boy has a gracious figure, almost feminine, but still a boyish aura around him, and his blue eyes (contacts?) are bright, though void of any interest, though it would be more correct to say void of any emotion, to be honest. Wait, is he wearing make up? This guy must be new because he’s never seen this face before and somehow, he already dislikes it, disrespectful brats are always distasteful, no matter what. He’s expecting at least some sort of reaction, a curse, or something, but nothing comes. A bit disappointingly. 

Not a single word comes out of his mouth (not that he alluded to part his lips in the first place), no muscle clenching in his entire figure, his face too remains unmoved and Chanyeol swears to God, how is it even possible he manages to breath without any slight movement of his chest. His face too resembles a plain brick wall. Just. Standing. There. Like. A. Fucking. Statue.

They just stare at each other, and the taller is not sure if the tension he feels between them is real or not, the other’s eyes are so empty and hard to read. He tries to find a sparkle, anything, but has to admit it’s a bit hard to focus on two things simultaneously, one braincell struggling to maintain his macho façade and the other encouraging him to be diplomatic and give up on this bullshit. But damn, he’s eager to know what the other is thinking, those eyes contain nothing but emptiness. He shivers, it’s creepy. 

Eventually, Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something, like ‘hey douchebag, do you realise you almost run me over, mind to apologize?’, but he’s distracted by two blonde heads that appear right behind the guy, one over each shoulder, like an angel and a devil (only in this case, there are two demons instead) and that’s enough for him to be snapped out of the staring contest. 

Kwon Jiyong and Song Minho. 

He knows them, how could he not? The two are infamous for...what? To be honest, he doesn’t know. Everyone just avoids them, so he stays away too, he guesses. Rumors run from mouth to mouth, the meddlers come out with the most fanciful things, like they’re some kind of undercover drug dealers or shit like that. Thanks to God, Chanyeol is smart enough to distinguish the truth from bullshit, not that it’s so hard in this case, it’s pretty obvious they’re just two teens with a passion for dark clothes. All he’s ever seen them doing was wearing gloomy expressions, avoiding people and smoking industrial quantities of cigarettes. They’re not the kind of people he hangs out with, anyway, so he has never had a reason to tag along with them. This is the closest interaction they had, probably, if you want to call it that. 

Jiyong, is the one who puts an end to the… how to define it? Mh, silent argument, maybe. “Let’s get going.” He turns around and starts walking and Minho mimics the action not even a second after, not saying a word as well. The silver-haired has signed up to the Mute Freaks club apparently. The other two don’t wait for the third one, who’s still staring in the depts of Chanyeol’s eyes, but eventually he languidly blinks once before turning around and vanishing like fog through the crowd. 

Chanyeol scoffs. How nice. 

He’s barely the time to face the exit again, before an arm circles his neck and drags him down. Once he realises what the fuck is going on. there’s not even a second to get annoyed. He tilts his head to the side, towards the thing that’s making his shoulder and neck throb in pain. Luhan’s face is close. So close.

Perfect. He inwardly smirks before licking a stripe up the other’s cheek, putting much more spit than he actually needs in the process.

“What the fuck?!” Luhan jumps back with disbelief written on his face, using the cuff of his right sleeve to clean his face. “If you really want to lick something, suck my dick.”

Chanyeol’s boisterous laugh resonates over the chatter of the hallway (God, he loves his friends), and several people turn their heads to send him weird glares. He’s the captain of a school team and he could do pratically anything, there would be girls at any corner ready to drool for everything he does anyway. Though, there are some things that are just too embarrassing, even for him.

His loudness, for example.

“Yah! Even if he got to his knees, he would be eye-level with your face.” Jongdae butts in, clinging to Chanyeol’s other shoulder, dragging him even downwards and erasing the already non-existent cartilage in his joints. Even Kyungsoo, that appeared mysteriously next to them, can’t contain a slight quirk of his lips, despite maintaining his usual stoic expression.

“You two, are you trying to make me become shorter?” The taller tries to wriggle out of their grip.

“Dae, maybe if we keep on doing this, his vertebrae will flatten, and he will finally lose some inches.”

“Would that work for his cock too?” He fakes a thinking expression. “I’m tired to ear girls talk about his legendary-“

“I’ll choke you with my legendary dick if don’t shut-“ 

Chanyeol is really too loud.

Right in that moment, they walk past two girls, that (unfortunately) turn their heads in their direction, because yes, they heard him. And Chanyeol freezes on the spot, his solemn speech cut off mid-sentence.

Not her. 

Kang Seulgi has a mix of embarrassment and annoyance plastered on her face, and if he wasn’t too distracted by the sudden hot feeling creeping up the back of his neck, he would certainly notice the pink shade dusting her cheeks. It all happens in a matter of seconds, because the next moment she’s not there anymore and he’s a bit closer to the main entrance, like two asteroids crossing each other’s paths.

“Still head over heels for her?” Luhan pokes him in the ribs. Always teasing. Chanyeol sighs because what else can he do? They’re right, after all, it’s been-

“Three years, am I right?” Jongdae raises his eyebrows and lowers his lids at the same time. 

“Four.” Kyungsoo too. The tallest swears to the fucking God that he’d walk home on his knees every fucking day to save himself from this pain. He has a crush, okay. It started an eternity ago, and that’s still okay. But his fucking friends won’t stop laughing at him because ‘you two live on different planets’ and all that shit they keep on bragging about.

“Shouldn’t you get over it?” There’s a strange expression on Luhan features, he looks… wiser? Or maybe he’s just concerned, Chayeoll can’t tell. Just to go over any doubt, he shots him a glare, and the shorter clears his throat. “I mean, you clearly don’t plan to confess, so why don’t you forget about it and focus on something else?”

‘Focus on something else.’

Chanyeol wants to punch Luhan, but most of all himself. Now Seulgi will think he’s that kind of guy.

“Just phone me when you’re done making fun of me.” He shakes them off and speeds up his pace. Just a few feet and he will be free from this hell of a place, the front gate, AKA salvation from his friends’ judgment, so close.

“Are we going out today?” While speaking, Jongdae takes out a cigarette from a very battered packet and lights it up. 

Chanyeol snorts. “Can’t. My dad is bringing home his new girlfriend. This one will move in it seems.”

Right out of the front gate, the four boys split into two pairs heading in opposite directions. “We should sneak in that fraternity party.” Luhan’s annoying voice comes to Chanyeol’s ears. “I bet it’d take me less than 5 minutes to find someone for you.” He ends with a wink. Whitout thinking twice, the taller fills his mouth with saliva and spits in his direction. The other jumps back in an instant, like a frightened cat, and in the distance, Chanyeol can hear him wheeze and a very disgusted ‘gross’, Jongdae’s whiny laughter as a background noise.

Kyungsoo and him walk in silence for some minutes, covering the same road they do every day, since they live in the same neighbourhood, until his usually silent friend, decides to speak out of the blue. “Why don’t you confess?”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

“I… I can’t.” 

“Why not? What do you have to lose?” His tone is not enough pronounced to make him sound surprised, but sure he’s not familiar with the hesitancy he’s seeing in his friend’s eyes.

“Because I’m not sure she would reciprocate.” He pauses. That’s not entirely the truth. “Girls like her don’t like boys like me.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” The shorter runs a hand down his face in an exasperated manner. Now he’s definitely bewildered. “You’re trying to tell me there are girls who wouldn’t want to date the basketball team captain? You’re some kind of celebrity at school.”

“Doesn’t mean shit.” Chanyeol’s shoulders deflate. “She’s so smart, and graceful. Probably, she thinks I’m some stupid ass or something.”

“If you want to look smart, ask her out before someone else does.” Kyungsoo says maintaining his neutral tone, he doesn’t mean to scold his friend, but then he notices the face Chanyeol is making. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to start-“ He’s starting to become petulant, like Jongdae. And he doesn’t like it.

“Chanyeol” it sounds like a warning. “Get your shit together.” He stops for a moment to go back to his ordinal calmness. “Listen, you get defensive every time someone brings it up, I understand how it feels, more than anyone else.”

Yeah, that’s true.

Last year, during one of their sleepovers (that ain’t sleepovers if you ask them), a drunk Kyungsoo casually told them about his secret crush. Nothing special itself, but when the boy revealed them the name of the boy he’d been crushing over for months, their jaws dropped in unison and Kyungsoo showed them his flustered side for the first time. After that night, none of them had the guts to bring it up (the one concearned hadn’t either), but it was clear their friend was moping over the issue. Until one day, they were all sitting at the cafeteria and wide ass grinning Kyungsoo barged in and stated, not before banging his books on the table, that he had confessed and ‘I’m officially dating Kim Jongin’.

Between highs and lows, the two are still together, despite not openly admitting being gay, but they do a better couple than most of the people in school. All thanks to Kyungsoo brave ass. 

“Don’t think about that too much, we will come up with something original.” He gives Chanyeol a warm smile before turning around and walking along the front lane of his house. He hasn’t noticed that they had stopped. His mind is somewhere he can’t find for some minutes, so he stands there looking at his friend getting more and more distant each step. Eventually he resumes his walk.

It doesn’t take him a lot to reach the fence that separates his garden from the street. From his position he can see his father’s off-road parked in front of the porch and a woman (must be her) that’s unloading something that he thinks must be a painting from the back of the veicle. What catches his interest the most, tough, is a car, a very fancy one, he’s never seen before (nobody in a country town like this, owns a car like that).

Right then, the woman climbs the three step that lead to the front door of his house and another figure steps out of the door.

It’s not his father.

And you see, sometimes faith is really fucked up.

________________________________________

The only thing he can do is stand still like an idiot and try to assimilate what he is seeing, the person who’s carelessly taking his shit into Chanyeol’s house.

This can’t be really happening to me.

Indeed, that’s exactly what’s happening: the stone-cold-eyes fucker is moving in his fucking house.

When the aftershocks of his surprise die down, he manages to walk through the gate, always without taking his eyes off the other, who moves from the door to the pickup and back like it’s something he’s always done, clearly very familiar to the surroundings. 

You’ve already made yourself at home, asshole. Chanyeol adverts his eyes only to roll them several times.

He walks slowly towards the doorway, feeling like he’s about to enter the den of some fierce beast. Fuck, he shouldn’t feel like this, this is his fucking house. There’s no way he can understand why he hates this boy so much. 

Is it because he’s pretty..?

What the fuck Chanyeol!

It would be nice to spend a little more time to scold his deviated mind, but as he’s about to climb the first step, a boot appears on the last one. His heart picks up some speed, and he feels very stupid, ‘cause he shouldn’t feel like this about a guy. At all.

No. Wait. 

It’s not because of that.

Like in the school hallway, the two stare at each other and, once again, the silver-haired guy looks at him as if there’s no soul in his body. It’s funny because he could resemble the way Kyungsoo usually treats all of them, if it wasn’t for the fact that seems like this guy is unable to speak. Or to react.

Maybe he’s mute and I’ve been acting like a bitch the whole time for nothing.

Chanyeol almost feels bad. Fucking prejudices. 

Okay, easy Yeol, now introduce yourself.

“Hello…-“ He tentatively mutters the word but he hasn’t the chance to go on, because the all too cheerful voice of his father (must be ecstatic) cuts in the tension between them, making the taller tilt his head and his attention towards the sudden noise. 

“Oh, I see you two already met!” He’s fucking happy and Chanyeol almost laughs out loud for what his father has said. Of course, we already met. He wants to say it so bad, but he opts for keeping his smartass comments to himself. Meanwhile, his father has already faced the other. “This is my son, Chanyeol, and” he turns his joyful eyes towards the taller. “this is-“

“Baekhyun.” A monotone sound distracts them both. “My name is Baekhyun.” 

So the fucker is not mute.

His mouth is the only thing that moved on his face. Shouldn’t people shake hands, or bow, when they meet for the first time? Chanyeol’s seen his father bow to people even if he had known them before. So, shouldn’t he smile a little at least? Well, he can’t be blamed for that, since Chanyeol was the first one to act shy and awkward. He’s just so… cold.

Like his hair.

His dad too looks taken aback. This guy is creepy. “Ah…yes.” He clears his throat. “I’m sure you two will get on just fine.” He then locks eyes with Chanyeol, and the latter can read them clearly. ‘I’m sorry!’ they say. “Why don’t you help him with those boxes?”

“No need too.” The boot in front of Chanyeol’s face moves, another one appearing next to it and moving as well. Father and son look in amazement(?) as the silver-haired walks like a model down the steps (there’s something aching to modesty in his gait, he looks more aware of himself than conceited, let’s say) and exceeds the taller without sparing him a glance.

Chanyeol’s eyes roll so much he’s sure he can see his brains at some point.

________________________________________

If anything, dinner is even more awkward.

Chanyeol looks over to his father, who’s animatedly conversating with the woman who has just become his new mum. She’s astonishingly beautiful and that’s surprising, because Park Chanwoo is travelling towards his fifties and he’s never been a very god-looking man. Chanyeol would’ve never thought he could find a woman after his mother left. Not that he’s not happy of course, actually, it’s the opposite, his father was devastated when his wife told him she was sick of the countryside life and she was moving to Seoul, so he deserves this. 

‘Chanyeol and Yoora are coming with me.’

Child-Chanyeol listened to their conversation from the top of the stairs, catching everything he could before his sister’s strong arm encircled him and dragged him in their shared bedroom. The next morning though, she hadn’t been able to stop him from running away, before anyone woke up, from their house. A house that didn’t feel like home anymore. After about three days, he had to trudge home, pushed by hunger and the fact that he really missed his now destroyed family, finding only his tired-looking dad slumped on the table and reeking of alcohol. When Chanwoo lifted his head from the table and saw him, Chanyeol remembers he could just stand there, frozen, shocked by the sight of his father crying, whit deep, dark shadows under his eyes and puffy lids. Dazed because of di alchool, his father didn’t notice his discomfort, instead he stood up and stumbled towards his son, falling to his knees right at his feet and throwing his arms around his astonished and unmoving son.

“They left Chanyeol.” The child felt wetness on his shoulder, and it took him a couple of seconds to understand, in his innocent youth, that his dad was hurt, emotionally hurt. And he remembers he was scared. Scared because he had no idea how to make his dad feel better, how to make him smile. How to heal his scars.

“Dad, I’m still here.”

Seven years later, he’s happy of his words.

Nevertheless, right now he can’t find any. The boy sitting in front of him is looking down at his plate and so far, he’s never raised his eyes for not even one time. It’s frustrating really, annoying too. Since this afternoon, not even once he’s opened his mouth to talk to him, nor he looked at his face.

Hm, the second one is not completely true, though. 

While his dad and Sunmi were cooking dinner, the two of them were left in the living room to ‘get to know each other’, something to laugh about since they didn’t say a word to each other the whole time. The taller, though, felt considerably stared at and ignoring the boy that was sat at the other end of the couch became a task he fatigued to endure. Winning over his unreasonable shyness, he tried a glance over the shorter and this time he found him looking right back. 

Being his stupid self, Chanyeol got distracted like a fool for an even more fool reason. For a moment, he only saw a dainty pair of crossed legs, a dainty hand draped prettily in a lap and a pale, dainty, flawless face resting on a dainty palm. This way, he lost the opportunity to see the other’s eyes widen. 

The shorter wasn’t even the one who looked away first, ‘cause as soon as he realised he was staring, he instantly looked away, feeling a (all too) familiar hotness creeping up his cheeks.

Nothing else happened after that. Well, you should feel honoured if someone like Mr.Cold Fucker looked at you. Let’s not be ambitious. 

Baekhyun doesn’t give him a chance to open even just a prototype of a conversation, excusing himself right after dinner and ‘rushing’ up to his bedroom. That word’s between inverted commas because Baekhyun doesn’t actually run upstairs, he just has this way of moving that goes close to floating, light like a feather. Maybe Chanyeol has read about something like that at school, like… was it Dante?

What the hell, why is he even comparing him to a damsel in distress of the thirteenth century. 

You can fuck yourself Byun.

The sound of the sponge against the ceramic of the plates keeps increasing as he gets more and more frustrated over the boy, scrubbing vigorously whatever comes between his hands. So concentrated in his job, he doesn’t hear the steps behind him, until a hand taps on his shoulder and he fucking jumps.

Gosh, he’s so dumb. And now his teeshirt his soaked. Great.

A crystalline giggle tells him it’s not his dad the one he will see when he turns around.

“I’m sorry.” What a beautiful smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sunmi tilts her head to the side.

“Don’t be, I would’ve consumed that bowl if you didn’t stop me.”

The mirth in her features fades to leave space for a softer and parental smile. “Listen, I wanted to say sorry for my son’s behaviour.” A pause in which she wrinkles her eyebrows. Chanyeol tries to make the most of the chance, opening his mouth to say something, like ‘no, please, there isn’t absolutely any problem’, but a look from the woman stops him from doing so, she pats his arm right after. “I’m not trying to justify him, he’s always been kinda introvert.”

“It’s okay, really.” She shouldn’t be the one apologizing anyway.

She sighs. “No, Chanyeollie, I didn’t raise him to be this rude. He’s been through some bad stuff and now he just… There are reasons why he’s like that.”

Eyeing absently the wet spot at the front of the boy’s shirt, she takes a deep breath. “Don’t get mad at him for this, please.”

Chanyeol rubs his hand on his sweatpants, ridding his palm from the water and a few bubbles of soap. The same palm lands on the shoulder of the much tinier woman that’s standing in all her authority and motherly love. “I will help him out, I promise.”

She smiles brightly and fuck God if she doesn’t look like a mother right now. But then she leans her weight to the side, as to look behind Chanyeol’s back. “Do you need some help?” Okay, the Baekhyun-topic is over. 

“Don’t worry.” A little bit of ass kissing would do right now, yes. “Actually, you should rest, I’m sure travelling so much was exhausting.”

“Fine.” Another pat (the boy could seriously get used to this) “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

He doesn’t tell her that Baekhyun has already found himself a great group of friends. 

________________________________________

Reality hits him when he’s halfway up the stairs.

There are only two bedrooms in this house: one for his parents and one for-

He slams the door of his bedroom open, making it bang against the wall, so hard it even bounces back. The bed where his sister used to sleep many years ago, has a weight curving its usually flat surface, that weight being a body indeed. After so long there’s someone filling the emptiness next to him.

He must admit it, Chanyeol can see a gleam of warmth at the end of the tunnel of dislike that he feels towards the guy that’s leaned so comfortably against the headboard of a stranger’s bed. Baekhyun is staring into nothing (like always, honestly, what else does he do?) and he looks… ethereal. 

Well, it’s just the truth, Chanyeol has never seen someone like him. It’s known around that boys who dye their hair are weird, in the bad way (just look at the punks, they give fucking chills), maybe this boy too has some shade shit to hide. Maybe all the bullshit they say about Minho and Jiyong are true. About them being-

That’s. Not. The. Problem. Right. Now.

Let’s just talk about the fact that the fucker didn’t give a damn about the door being harshly opened, he didn’t even flinch. Hell, Chanyeol risks to wet his pants every time he hears a loud noise, is it really possible that nothing – no fucking thing – manages to affect the shorter? 

Looking at him right now, makes the taller boil with anger, muscles clenching as a wave of rage runs through his body. There are so many things he could spit out right now, not very nice ones. He’s about to snap, but the sight of something strange in his peripherical view, manages to stop. 

Boxes. 

Not many, but they’re piled up in a corner of the room and that serves as a sort of reminder that he made a promise to Sunmi. He should at least try, and this can be the starting point.

Grabbing the doorknob, he starts by closing it gently. “I don’t know if you’re listening to me.” He takes a hold of the hem of his shirt and rolls it until the wet patch’s not against his skin anymore, and lifts it over his head then, also reducing his hair in a mess. “But if you are, I’m gonna make some space for your stuff tomorrow, so you can take it out of those boxes.”

His pants are the next item to be removed and when he’s freed one foot from them, he turns to look at his brother, one ankle still trapped in the piece of clothing, and finally, finally, he’s looking back at him. 

Well, at this point the captain feels naked under those black pearls (wait, he must have taken off his lenses at some point). Reason number two why he decides he definitely doesn’t stand this guy. Why in the world is he even this flustered?!

Not that he expected much, but a single nod comes to his way, a nod he barely notices thanks to his fucked-up state of mind.

At least, he acknowledges me. Chanyeol’s eyes make a 360° turn.

Things take an unexpected turn (everything spins tonight haha) when the shorter stands up and, listen listen, starts taking off his clothes. Nothing too weir you’d say, but really, it’s not that it takes 10 minutes to let a shirt slide, very slowly, down your arms, or that you have to arch your back out so much when you step out of your pants. 

Chanyeol’s jaw goes completely slack, the moment his brother’s underwear falls from his wide hips too. As he’s blessed by the sight of a perfect round bottom, the taller loses himself in thoughts he’s really ashamed of admit he’s having, like how perfectly Baekhyun’s tiny waist joins with the curves of his hips and down to his thick thighs. Also, his back. Chayeol can tell that the other doesn’t do any sport, still he’s quite muscular and his back is cut in a half by the very marked shape of his spine. Right now, the ass that’s been shoved in front of his face, is the last thing he feels the need to think about.

Still, things are starting to get weird. Like, a lot.

Without grabbing a clean pair of boxers or some kind of clothing, the captain hurries to the bathroom, keeping his eyes glued in front of himself and locking the door behind himself as soon as he gets inside. The shower he takes, lasts more than he expected, something he feels the urge to do because he really doesn’t want to see other parts of his brother’s body. 

He could’ve screamed at him, that was the right time to do it.

And he didn’t. 

The moquette is very soft under his feet when he comes out of the bathroom, skin over-sensitive because of the hot water. A tentative glance towards his sister’s (or better, his brother’s) bed, tells him the boy is safely covered by the comforter, the taller can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing anything under the covers. He’s not asleep, since Chanyeol can see that he occasionally blinks at the emptiness in front of his face. 

What if he suffers from hallucinations?

Mind dizzy and wrinkled fingers, Chanyeol pads across the room, being absurdly careful not to disturb the other presence in the room. Why the hell, he doesn’t even know. At some point, the one lying on the bed must’ve switched the main light off, the taller realises while rummaging in a drawer in hopes to find a tshir for the night, task ten times more difficult because of the very dim light coming from the lamp on the nightstand in the other side of the room being the only source of light. A last glance to make sure Baekhyun isn’t watching, then he lets the towel fall from his waist, cloth forming a heap at his ankles. 

He should’ve spent some time on his bed, like any other evening, ‘cause when he lays down, the sheets feel cold and give him a sense of pure discomfort. Falling asleep will be hell.

Right when he’s about to pass out, something gives him a reason to open wide his orbits. 

“Chanyeol.”

He groans, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his limbs are completely numb by now, he would get up and slap his brother in the face. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Chanyeol doesn’t get an ounce of sleep that night.


	2. (b)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here I am with the new chapter.  
I'm warning you: things will get messy and rushed, since the main purpose of this fic was to write some smutty shit, I don't even know how the hell this whole thing started (I just wantyed some spicy context tho)
> 
> that said, please enjoyyy!

Chanyeol has been a fool to think, for even a second, they could become friends.

Apparently, Baekhyun has had such a great time with his platinum blonde friends, that he didn’t feel the need to be friends with anyone else. The three seniors (yes, Byun Baekhyun is one year older than Chanyeol, between other things) have become quite an urban legend among the school, the grey haired being the most popular of the trio, for some reason. Chanyeol doesn’t know if it’s because the boy is new or what, but everyone just won’t stop making a fuss about him being charming, and kind, and so fucking handsome.

Well, he is pretty.

Shit is still the same, though. Baekhyun can be as good-looking as he wants, but he behaves like a bitch. 

Long story short, they don’t talk to each other. Or better, it’s the shorter one who keeps on ignoring the other’s presence without an apparent reason, hardly sparing him a glance. It wouldn’t be a problem, if it wasn’t for all the dickheads that daily ask him about his brother, about his brother’s favourite food, about his brother’s hair dye. Things, Chanyeol, doesn’t give a shit about.

Now that every human being at school knows they live together, it’s impossible for the taller to go through a single day without being questioned about his ‘’relationship with Baekhyun. Not in the romantic sense, mind you, but let’s be honest, something’s not working when two brothers arrive at school separately and don’t acknowledge each other’s presence during the whole day. Something that really raises questions, indeed. 

But the thing that Chanyeol hates the most, he’s that he’s being pictured as the villain. Yes, because Baekhyun, if you listen to the people around, is kind to anybody and reliable, even though he always maintains his usual aloof and cold attitude, he minds his own business and stays away from drama. A perfect fellow, basically. So the taller has obviously to be the jerk, because ‘he’s jealous and he doesn’t get to be at the centre of the attention anymore’.

He really wants to say that that’s just bullshit, but hell, he’s not entirely sure of that, as well. Since he’s joined the basketball team, he’s always had a lot of fangirls leaving love letters and post cards in his locker, boys hyping him up during the matches, and even if he’s at the penultimate year of high school, he’s one of the most popular students in the building and not long ago, freshmen used to look up at him.

Baekhyun has covered him, like the moon covers the sun during an eclipse.

Still, he can’t hate him. 

Because he’s made a promise to Sunmi.

________________________________________

A month later, Baekhyun is still the main attraction in the school and the protagonist of the wet dreams of half of the girls of the town. 

And it’s driving Chanyeol mad.

Now the taller gets a lot of unwanted attention, a whirlpool of gossip and bullshit that never ends. And a new reason for his friends to tease him. 

Cornered, that’s how he feels. 

His schoolmates, his friends, even his dad, that once tried to hold a psychologic sitting in their living room to try to bring out the reason why Chanyeol can’t stand his big brother, seem to see in him a sort of spoiled brat who doesn’t talk with ‘different’ people. Discrimination, someone dared to say. But since he was a child, he’s been a very sociable kid, always talking too much, so how is it even possible that he would be the one who’s acting up?

The thing is, what the fuck should he do to make his hell of a brother like him? Or just stop ignoring him?

He doesn’t want them to become friends, just civil. That’s all. It’s easier said than done, tho.

Sunmi’s words won’t get out of his mind, making him feel more guilty than he actually is, and should be. She said Baekhyun has reasons to be so wary, still he can’t make out why the boy acts so coldly when he’s around him. It would be amazing if his brother decided to talk to him, like, maybe there are some issues he didn’t even notice or there’s really something in Chanyeol’s behaviour that makes the other nervous.

There are reasons.

The captain really wants to know them. Maybe if he knew better the guy, he would be able to adjust his actions to fit him, not that he’s planning to change his entire self for someone else, but at least they could meet in the middle.

One day, he gets home from school and he find his parents in their atrium with their bags packed. “We’re leaving for a work trip.” That’s all the explanation they get. ‘They’ because, when the shock fades away, he realises there’s not a new statue they bought in the room, but it’s indeed his brother.

When the door is closed behind their parents, it’s like something else came in through the door, a third presence that envelops them and keeps them motionless, staring at the piece of wood in front of them, dumbfounded. Did their parents just leave? Like that?

On instinct, Chanyeol slightly tilts his head to look at his brother, finding him with his face still directed at the front door, though his eyes are hung a little low, like he’s disappointed(?), the taller can’t tell, but sure he feels amused to be finally able to see a patch of an emotion on that face.

He should do something, he knows he should, but as soon as the fog of awkwardness fades away, time goes back to his normal flow and, without sparing him a glance, Baekhyun turns around and climbs the stairs, stoic expression back in place.

Alone. They’re alone. They have the house for themselves for about four days. Now that they’re both very popular (sounds like an insult to Chanyeol’s hears), they should throw the party of the year, invite the whole school and get wasted like there’s no tomorrow. There’s plenty of time to get all the stuff they need and to clean afterwards, hopefully some of their friends will have mercy of them and help ‘em tidy up.

Wait, their?

Of course, there’s this shit going on between them that won’t allow them to get the preparations done. There’s no way they will be able to organize a whole ass party if they don’t get fucking on. There’s so much to work on, like, start all over again from ‘hi’, and the taller has no hopes, no will too.

Later, that night, when Chanyeol deems his eyes red enough, he turns off his Atari, not bothering to put back all the cables in their box (after all, his parents won’t be here to see all the mess he leaves around) plod then towards the staircase, almost forgetting the lights on. When he reaches the top of the stairs, thanking the heavens he plays basketball and his lungs trained enough, he gets a glimpse of his brother padding across the hallway, a pillow under his arm and a book in his free hand. 

The taller frowns. “Where are you going?”

“I’m sleeping in our parents’ room.” Crystal clear, like the water. Innocent too, because there’s no trace of venom in those words.

So why does it feel like there is?

Chanyeol feels so, so stupid, ‘cause even if he’s sure about hating that fucker, he can’t help but feel slightly disappointed at the idea of sleeping alone in his room, but it’s not only that, maybe their parents have intentionally left to let them some time alone to bond, to do better than what they’ve done until now, and they’re wasting all this precious time. It’s sad, really, because this means they haven’t moved an inch since that first night. 

With his hand still on the handrail, he watches his brother form disappear behind that door, not turning back, wondering if he will ever get to know what those reasons are.

________________________________________

A couple of nights through their extended weekend of independence, Chanyeol sees the opportunity to make tables turn for good.

It’s a rainy day and Baekhyun is home earlier than usual, probably skipping his daily meet up with Jiyong and Minho. Maybe, or hopefully, he’s more inclined to go out with him.

This is the perfect chance. Don’t fuck up.

His palms are sweaty as he pretends to sit comfortably on the couch, writhing to find a casual enough pose not to look too fake, waiting for his brother to walk through the front door. He’s somewhere between giving up and fainting for the struggle to sit still, when Baekhyun appears in his line of sight, removing his shoes, one at a time, slowly, and leaving them by the door. The captain watches as the other slides his wet jacket off his shoulders in a fluent movement (he may have heard a curse or two), his grey hair is soaked too, and he must have wiped it unceremoniously back with his hand, because it leaves his forehead completely uncovered, looking, for the first time, a bit ridiculous. The shorter mutters (surprisingly) a ‘hi’ and right when he is about to climb on the first step of the stairs, Chanyeol summons his courage and talks. 

“Hey, it’s Friday, why don’t we do something?” 

Baekhyun looks surprised for a moment, taken aback even, actually, there’s a mix of doubt and surprise written on his face, and sure the surprise is because he wasn’t expecting such a bold move for the taller, his body still as if the time is frozen around him, then he answers. “Sure.” He gets a grip of himself. “Let me change these clothes.”

When he gets down the stairs, the shorter is wearing very casual clothes, and Chanyeol feels stupid for being genuinely surprised, but he’s never, not even once, seen his brother wearing other than his ripped jeans and stylish shirt. There’s always been a certain finesse in everything regarding Baekhyun, from his face, to his behaviour (kinda), to the way he wears his clothes, some class… thoughts Chanyeol shouldn’t really having.

“What do you want to do?” Baekhyun leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head slightly at the side, his feet automatically crossing in the process.

That’s a great question. If only Chan the smartass Yeol had thought of an answer… 

He knows he looks stupid right now, because his brother would be probably having one of his very long showers if he didn’t voice out his nice idea, so he should’ve at least come up with something and not waste the guy’s time. Baekhyun’s neatly groomed, raised eyebrow is not helping him either.

Think Chanyeol, quickly.

“Wanna grab some food?”

A barely concealed sigh. “Guess I’ll have to drive?”

The only response he can formulate is a shy, lopsided grin.

A couple of hours later, they’re crashed on the sofa, several boxes of take-out abandoned on the coffee table, on the floor, everywhere. There’s a random movie from the 60s playing on the TV, but for once they don’t need it to fill the silence, just as a background noise.

“They’re not as bad as you think, you now?” Baekhyun takes a box half full of noodles from the empty space between them on the sofa and, after making sure it’s empty, he shakes the joint he’s holding against its rim, making a lump of ash fall into the small container.

The taller watches as the other exhales a cloud of white, thick smoke. “Who?”

“Minho and Jiyong.” Eyes half lidded, Baekhyun glances at him as if it’s obvious.

“I don’t remember saying they’re bad.”

“Everyone does.” He extends his arm towards Chanyeol, offering him the end of the joint where its filter sits, balancing it between his index and middle finger, holding it close to the taller lips.

Reaching out to take it, the brunette looks at his brother’s crimson red eyes, somewhat, they look good with his teenage comfy clothes, those are two things that go well together. Call it aesthetic. “I’d like to remind you that I live with someone as weir as them.” He ends with a smirk, before aspirating from the joint he’s holding, a cough erupting from the dept of his chest before he can’t even stop it.

Surprisingly, the other dissolves in a giggle and Chanyeol finds it unexpectedly amazing, a sound so clear and unfamiliar, yet warm and friendly. So friendly that he starts laughing like the hyena he is himself. Indeed, it must be some kind of contagious bacterium, and he doesn’t know how, but in the haze of their mirth, the taller’s head ends up in Baekhyun’s lap and five fingers start to brush his wild strands out of his forehead.

Baekhyun’s hand in his hair is something he could die for. No jokes.

At some point, Chanyeol must make some breathy sound, because the elder retreats his hand a little too quickly (to Chanyeol much chagrin) and has a mask of embarrassment mixed with confusion glued on his face, but there’s still a drunken (high, to be honest), asymmetrical grin directed to the boy that’s looking up at him, as if asking a very unnecessary explanation. 

A throaty whine makes its way, against his will, past the taller’s lips. “Keep doing that.” He blindly reaches for the other’s wrist, swinging his hand in the air until he finds, not before a couple of attempts, what he’s looking for, and positioning messily the bony hand over his head, making obvious beyond any doubt what he wants. Baekhyun shakes his head and giggles, a sound he would describe as ‘shiny’, just as his mother’s, but boyish, and his fingers slowly dig into his hair and start stroking his scalp again.

Chanyeol opens his eyes, but closes them again straight away, the light, even if it’s not that strong, pierces his eyeball making them ache from every possible point of view. He doesn’t feel relaxed at all, his orbs are extra sensitive, the effects of the weed they’ve just smoked still burning his sclerae, capillaries extra-dilated and heated.

Or at least, that’s what Chanyeol tells himself. 

________________________________________

The trip up the stair is a mess of limbs and giggles, a braid of legs that stumble over the steps and arms that struggle to have a grip of the handrail. Baekhyun steps accidentally on the younger’s foot, estracting a very loud (and exaggerated) cry of pain from him. It’s fucking hilarious somehow, ‘cause as soon as Baekhyun dissolves into a fit of snickers, Chanyeol bursts out laughing too, barking like the dog he’s known to be.

Though the whole trip is really funny, it’s exhausting too (as much exhausting climbing the stairs can be), so, as soon as they reach the landing, the taller feels a pool of relief settle in his chest at the sight of his bedroom door, like a starving man at the sight of an oasis. Every step is much heavier than the previous one, and he slowly makes his way along the hallway, dragging a limp body with him, a body that has thrown his arm around his shoulders and does barely an effort to keep himself up, let alone walking.

He’s so close, so close…

Suddenly, the weight on his shoulders lifts and he’s about to cheer, but his arm is yanked back, towards the other end of the hallway. The opposite way, basically. A loud, long cry of protest builds up in his lungs and he easily lets it out, echoed by the narrow walls of the space they’re in, but he does nothing to fight his brother.

“Let’s sleep in the other room, the bed is bigger.” Baekhyun doesn’t turn to look at him.

In his confused state of mind, this sounds worse than it actually his.

They (gladfully) land on the bed after tripping over a stray shoe Baekhyun has left in the way and there’s no time for the captain to wonder why the fuck there’s a shoe somewhere different from the atrium. For a brief moment, Chanyeol takes in the fact that, during their parents’ absence, this has become his brother’s temporary room, and he genuinely wonders when he will find the time to collect his things and take them back into the room they share, tidy everything up, so that it will never look like he slept here.

The younger turns on his side, yawning in the process, to look away from his brother. He’s still high, but more vigil than before and a voice at the back of his skull, tells him things are getting too weird and he should put some limits to their truce, right now. He may not be at the best of his awareness, but this doesn’t mean he can ignore the fact that he’s lying in the same bed as his brother, the same brother who didn’t acknowledge him until this evening-

An arm makes its way across his waist, taking him by surprise, feeling that intensifies as a nose is pressed against his nape, skin tickling as hot puff of breath crash against his neck. 

Hold up.

The voice is screaming at him now, his consciousness too it’s alarmed.

In other circumstances, he would find himself trying to analyse what kind of clinical problem would be affecting his brother for him acting in such a way, but right now, the sense of discomfort and the weariness that keeps pulling at his hair, telling him that ‘it’s too much for a single evening’, are ordering him to find a way out. 

There’s a problem though, which is, Baekhyun is not asleep. 

Despite his awkwardness, Chanyeol is still not ready to throw at the wolves all the closeness he’s achieved tonight, deep down he knows that, if he steps on the snake’s tail, the snakes will jump back and bite him. He finds himself unexpectedly reluctant to let go. 

As soon as he falls asleep, I’ll walk out of the room.

Call him a genius or something.

First of all, one could say ‘how the heck do you know he’s awake’, though Chanyeol, never in his life, has ever slept with someone who breaths so unregularly in their sleep, or who clutched so hard to him that he could not wriggle out of their arms, nor move an inch. 

Also, he can feel his heart.

It’s fast, and unregular against his back, making it hard for the taller to think about other than that. It’s distracting, and worrying, and part of him feels responsible for this.

Trying to relax his body as much as he can, Chanyeol stares in the darkness in front of his face, following with his eyes the shapes he’s not completely able to distinguish in the room. He hopes the other is too hazed to notice his stiffness, while in his mind he’s calculating the smoothest and shortest way to get to the door.

When he’s got his plan figured out, he’s got nothing left but to wait, in silence. He needs to be sure the other’s is sleeping deeply, or else he’ll wake him up again and the whole shit will start all over again.

One. Two. Three.

Counting every fucking second is not something he’s very happy to do, but considering the selections of things you can do while pretending to be asleep, he settles for somethings that will keep his mind busy for a while, hoping to not fall asleep as well in the process.

Six minutes and fifty-six. Six minutes and fifty-seven. Six minutes and fifty-eight.

He’s at somewhere between eleven and twelve minutes and his eyes are starting to get heavy, really heavy, when something startles him to the point of awakening completely.

“Fuck.” A hiss comes from behind him. 

The arm around him slips away like a lizard, the warmth against his body following straight after, leaving his back to deal with the chilly temperature of the night. There’s some rustling behind him, like clothes being discarded, and if it wasn’t for his coverage, he’d turn around to see what’s all about. Before he can go on with his train of thoughts, a weight settles again behind him, pressing against his body, chasing away away the cold he is feeling.

Then he remembers. 

His brother sleeps naked.

Now, in a situation like this, you couldn’t even say ‘it could get worst, it could rain’, ‘cause indeed, it’s still raining outside. Chanyeol is now thinking about all the bad things he’s done during his life to deserve something like this. It’s awkward, too awkward for a barely established friendship. Is his presumption to get to know Baekhyun better the cause of such a misfortune? Because, if that’s the case, he’s ready to pay his amend, but not in this way.

Despite the rather embarrassing situation, the fleeting thought that his brother his so warm and comforting against him, crosses his mind, back and forth, and he despises himself for this. It’s not that his mind is completely clouded (that weed wasn’t good enough to send him off, honestly) and, for a brief moment, he realises that the shorter too, who’s acting like a drunk ass, can’t be much higher than he is. So, why the fuck is he pulling this shit?

Chanyeol starts to sweat. Not a matter of temperature for sure, but because he’s seriously starting to panic. There’s no way out, not now that Baekhyun is holding him for his dear life, an embrace that could easily cut his breath off if the shorter’s arms were a few inches shorter. It’s suffocating, in more than one way, and he sees this more as a torture than a simple show of affection. He is ashamed to have felt, even if only for half a second, the urge to take Baekhyun’s hand and press it against his chest.

It’s not right.

Yeah, this is the point. It’s not right.

It’s not fair either.

They should fucking do the same shit every Friday night, every Saturday night too if necessary, like normal siblings do, or at least fight and claim their ownership over their stuff, pull each other’s hair – no wait, that’s for girls – well, fuck, something. Not fucking jump from strangers to best friends in a matter of a couple of hours.

Besides, he’s never slept like this with his real best friends.

Even if his loyal-self drives him through a way where he knows he wants to understand, the other part of him, the Chanyeol who gives no fucks about promises, shoves him against the wall of the truth, where it’s written, in capital letters, that his brother is playing with him, that tomorrow things will get as uncomfortable as they were before.

That gives him enough willpower to get his shit together and find a way out of this mess.

He waits for some minutes, minutes that last like school days, and when the breath that comes crashing against his neck feels more even, the taller decides it’s time to get a grip of the situation.

Chanyeol slowly untucks himself from his brother’s suffocating embrace, being forced at last to touch him, and fuck God, he’s cold as hell. He takes a hold of the shorter’s wrist, that looks so fragile between his much bigger hands, so slender he could fracture his bones if he tightened his grip enough, and keeps his arm suspended as he struggles to roll out of his brother’s personal space. He’s tempted, out of annoyance, to let the arm he’s holding fall unceremoniously on the bed, but his sense of justice stumbles over his stupid kindness. 

The very weak moonlight that penetrates through the window casts a cold shadow over Baekhyun’s body, an aura of sadness, and as soon as Chanyeol gets a glimpse of this sight, he feels the unpleasant burn of tears threatening the back of his throat. Miles of bare, diaphanous and pure skin, right in front of him, and he’s rejecting it.

Baekhyun looks vulnerable, helpless. 

Chanyeol looks away before he can start to feel worthless.

He looks over at the door; he has to cross the whole room to reach it. Screw the moment he slumped down on the wrong side of the bed. Slowly he slips down the bed, shivering as soon as his feet make contact with the cold wooden boards of the floor, and pads around the bed, making sure to avoid every kind of noise. Unfortunately, he places one of his feet on a corner of the duvet, that slips against the floor making him lose his balance, and he finds himself in a semi-split to avoid gripping on something that would make a lot of noise if he crashed it. 

The comforter that almost caused his death, lies now on the floor, at the feet of the bed, like the damned piece of fabric it is. He picks it up, cursing under his breath, and he drags it on the bed, hesitating in the floating feeling of his stupidity, wrapping it around Baekhyun’s body, holding it tight for a moment, letting go only when the shorter emits a choked sound. Chanyeol’s about to straighten back up, when his hand moves on his own accord, fingers reaching Baekhyun’s forehead and brushing away a wild strand, touch lingering more than necessary on the icy skin. 

That’s the only weakness he permits to himself. 

The younger retreats his hand in a swift move as soon as he regains his motor capacity, turning away from the bed straight after. He lingers on the door frame of their parents’ room for a few more seconds, bot looking back, until the tension, or maybe just the tiredness, is too much and he slips out of the room.

His room has never been so empty.

________________________________________

The snake jumps back and bites him, indeed.

He finds the house completely silent the next morning, cold, with the cool and approaching winter air penetrating through the slots of the windows, and above all, empty. Baekhyun has gone out, not bothering with breakfast apparently, since there’s no scent of food being prepared or coffee coming up from the kitchen, leaving his room, the room he is borrowing to be precise, in a complete mess. The taller peeks inside, not daring to put a foot over the doorway, sighing at the sight of covers thrown messily on the bed, sheets crumpled, and the clothes Baekhyun had worn the night before, herded on the floor, next to his side of the bed.

Chanyeol takes a tentative step into the room, a shiver running up his body, from the sole of his foot to the back of his hair, and he glances over to the source of the nude light that’s invading the room.

At least he bothered to open the windows.

He walks over to close them, looking outside, not admitting he does so to see if his brother’s car is still parked outside their porch, only to feel the slight disappointment in finding out it’s not there. Turning away and walking around the bed, he stands right in front of Baekhyun’s hill of clothes, for a moment he ponders if he’s behaving like a freak, then he kneels, fuck his nasty thoughts. One of his hands sinks in the fabric in front of him, and his fingers close around the softness of it. Before he can process what he’s doing, he’s picking it up and pressing it against his nose, well, not really against, but it’s a matter of seconds before he finds his face half buried in the sweatshirt he’s holding, letting Baekhyun’s scent invade his nostrils, vaguely remembering that he smelled it the night before, when he has had his head on the shorter’s lap.

With not much grace, he falls backwards then, onto the bed, turning on his stomach groggily, his face drowning in the softness of the mattress, sheets that smell like Baekhyun now that he has slept here for so many nights. How in the world has he even come so aquatinted with it?

He wonders where he’s gone, why, and most of all, why he didn’t tell him. Not that’s his business at all, he’s not a nosy fucker, but they should trust each other, just a bit maybe. 

Well, Chanyeol gets his answers when the elder comes home.

Not a single word comes out of his mouth, not even a stupid greeting, the captain almost laughs at himself for hoping in some progress. He should’ve really expected his brother’s behaviour, though it seems quite inappropriate even for Baekhyun to eat lunch in a different room. If Chanyeol’s mother had been home, she would’ve surely busted his balls about him getting crumbles on the bed.

Does he feel embarrassed?

If he does, he doesn’t show it. Usually, it’s Chanyeol the one who acts like a pussy in this kind of situations, so that can’t be the problem with him. It’s fair to highlight the fact that the taller himself doesn’t do shit to understand whatever is going on, all he does is whine internally because of the other’s pettiness, something that label him as a petty fuck as well. Call him childish or whatever, at this point it’s useless to deny it. 

Baekhyun though, seems keen to get on his nerves at all costs, since he carelessly switches on Chanyeol’s Atari without his fucking permission, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, and looking like he isn’t even responsible of having the controller in his hands. The younger almost freaks out, he seriously doesn’t know which invisible force holds him from snapping, heck, he bought that console with his fucking har gained money, but in the end, the only thing he does is sigh and spend the rest of his shitty Saturday locked in his room. If his brother left the house again, he doesn’t know.

Another thing he doesn’t know, and he finds quite difficult to figure out, is the reason why he’s so upset. Like, really, why should he? If his brat of a bother doesn’t give a damn, he has no reason to be bothered at all.

However, he still feels upset.

________________________________________

“If I didn’t know he’s your brother, I’d say you have the hots for him.” 

“Step-brother.” He corrects. Fuck Jongdae and his stupid and inappropriate statements.

His eyes don’t move from the figure that’s sitting at the opposite part of the cafeteria, in a very reserved corner, or that’s just the idea you get while looking at the scene. Baekhyun and his two companions, give this impression when you look at them: secluded, anattainable, intimate.

Intimate?

Chanyeol doesn’t want to associate this adjective to his brother, even more if it links him to the two blonde guys that right now are sitting with him, in front of him, so that the captain can’t see their faces, just their backs. He can’t even tell which one is Minho and which one is Jiyong, since they’re literally identical, though he remembers the little black regrowth he’s seen on Minho’s hair when he’s passed by them earlier in the morning.

What the hell is their secret, uh? How do they manage to get on with Baekhyun so well? It’s not like he’s a super complicated person, heck, he’s got the evidence himself, but he must be schizophrenic or something to go from pleasant and extra fun to grumpy bitch and back like nothing. 

Instead, with these two he doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, feeling at ease, the constant tension in his shoulders seems to be faded too. The guy is talking casually with his two friends, the taller doesn’t know if he’s more surprised by this or by the quantity of words that are streaming out of his brother’s mouth. The scene is really unfamiliar to Chanyeol, the fluent and relaxed movements Baekhyun is making have an uncommon face, his expressions too are totally the opposite from the ones he does when he’s around Chanyeol.

Once in a while, one of the other two fleetingly graze him, unintentionally or not, and it’s endearing in some way, maybe it’s just the fact that they’re able to touch him, like is some kind of off-limits jewel. Or maybe, it’s just that the little acts are very intimate, indeed.

The one on the receiving end doesn’t show any displeasure, in fact, he seems to enjoy the subtle attention, answering with a brush of his own whenever a hand gets whiting his personal space. And God, did he just smile?

“Yeah, look at him, he’s definitely in love.” A snicker is the red bow to the bullshit he’s just heard, Luhan does absolutely nothing to cover the hilarity on his face. The taller hasn’t realised that time around him was still flowing normally, honestly.

“Fucking shut up.” Maybe he raises his voice a bit too much, and a few boys from the nearest table turn around to look at him. 

What does he feel? Jealousy? Anger? To be honest, why in the world is he still making a fuss of it.

Without even realising, he finds himself muttering something that’s going to condemn his life. “I’m not the one who gets extra-clingy when I’m high.”

Several eyebrows raise and a couple of pairs of eyes widen. “What?”

By now, Chanyeol wishes he’d put a foot into his mouth. “He just… hugged me, okay?

“No, it’s not okay, we want the details.” Jongdae looks like he’s about to faint because of the excitement. For what he is excited, the taller doesn’t know.

“Lower your voice, fucker.” The situation is getting out of hand, really. Even Kyungsoo, whose presence hasn’t been noticed since they got there, looks clearly surprised and particularly intrigued by the ordeal.

Luhan slightly leans forward, as if the gesture would magically make his voice less loud. “So, he just came there and-“

“Not exactly,” he cuts him “we were in bed-“

“In bed! Together?!”

“Lower that fucking voice.” He closes his eyes for a second, resisting the urge to frantically rub his eyelids. “We were, kinda, sleeping to-“

“Oh my goodness.” Jongdae jumps in his chair. “Go on!”

“Hell, will stop interrupting me?” Chanyeol sighs, because what else can he do? He’s gug his own grave.

“So,” He glances at his friends, waiting to see if they can keep their mouths shut for two minutes straight. “We were in bed, sleeping, he probably thought I was asleep… I don’t know… he just… hugged me? Nothing special.”

“Huhuhu.” Luhan’s laughter resembles a wolf ululate. “Imagine if this shit spread around school.”

“Not happening.” The taller wants to punch him. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut.”

“Else what?”

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.”

“Are you scared for your reputation, or…” Jongdae lets his voice trail off, adding some suspense, now it’s not necessary at all. “Or you don’t want your big brother to get mad at you?”

“What a load of bull-“

Right then, three figures walk past their table, casting shadows on the flat surface, an all too familiar scent distracting Chanyeol from the damned conversation, making him stop mid-sentence and turn his head slightly to the side. Their shoes are the first thing he sees, dark, shiny pairs that blur and melt together in their dynamism, so that Chanyeol can’t pinpoint who’s their owner.

The last ones though, are pretty familiar. Familiar enough that he can swear he stumbled over one of those shoes.

He lifts his eye, searching for the face of the only person who’s capable of invading his mind like a fucking parasite. The captain almost falls out of his chair for the surprise when he finds the (now) blue irises pointed straight back at him. 

Time stops again, both of them caught in a whirl of understandable, yet incomprehensible feeling that doesn’t have a name yet, because it’s something that was born from this weird relationship they seem to have. Silent agreements, that ain’t really agreements, friendship that’s completely unbalanced, with shit that goes from black to white, no greys allowed. It’s their secret, an unspoken one, and for a fleeting second, Chanyeol is proud of what they have, something that has to be preserved, to be held close to the heart.

A second after, the blue eyes walk out of his line of sight and the spell in broken.

The flow of the time goes back to its normal tempo, and his head spins for a moment trying to get in touch with himself and his normal rhythm. He is aware he looks like he’s in the middle of a paralysis, or a shock, but even if Chanyeol pushes his will to move with all the strength he has, the struggle to regain contact with reality is too big. Help. He’s so dumbfounded that he need help.

For that, though, there are always friends.

“See? I’ve told ya.” Jongdae elbows playfully a shit-grin faced Luhan, the two staring gingerly at the unsetteled boy sitting across them, not caring about his inner turmoil.

It’s Kyungsoo turn to scoff. “Oh please, shut the fuck up.”

If only Chanyeol hadn’t been busy digging into the depts of his soul, he would’ve surely noticed Seulgi looking at him from the nearest table.


End file.
